New War, Old Scars
by JtheBard
Summary: Harry has saved the wizarding world, but after all of the celebrations were over, everyone moved on and seemingly forgot all about the boy that saved them. Left to his own devices, can be overcome the pain that comes with witnessing so much pain and death? Help may be on the way in the form of red hair, a kitten, and a…child?. Slightly AU as Fred is still alive.
1. At the bottom of a bottle

**Disclaimer**: I am a college student, so that means I am poor, which means that I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with him…unfortunately.

**Timeline**: The story starts around the year 2000. Two years after the final battle.

**Summary:** Harry has saved the wizarding world, but after all of the celebrations were over, everyone moved on and seemingly forgot all about the boy that saved them. Left to his own devices, can he overcome the pain that comes with witnessing so much pain and death? Help may be on the way in the form of red hair and...A kid? Slightly AU mainly because I cannot write in a world where Fred Weasley is dead.

**Chapter One: At the bottom of a bottle**

Harry really hated Mondays. And to be quite honest, he hated Tuesday, Wednesdays, and every other day of the week as well. He was also not too particularly fond of mornings, afternoons, tea time, evenings, or the night time. In short, he was miserable no matter what day or time it was. But as it was, he had to deal with life no matter how miserable it was.

_Breath, calm yourself. You are bloody lucky to even be alive you ungrateful prig, so stop feeling sorry for yourself._

The self-pep talks never worked, but he still did them anyway. It was one of the things that kept him alive and somewhat sane. That, and the firewhiskey.

Harry Potter's life had taken a dramatic turn for the worse in the past few years. After he had ended Riddle's reign of terror, he had finally relaxed, enjoying the fact that he no longer had to defend the world or his own miserable life. The celebrations had been numerous and the world rejoiced with him. For some time, he had allowed himself to think that his life could be better, that he could finally be happy.

He took some time off and then applied to the auror program at the ministry. He had excelled in the program and had graduated near the top of his class. He loved his job and the thrill that came with it, and again, he thought that he was doing some good in the world.

However, it was around this time that things started to change. When people started to get back to their lives after the war had ended, after the funerals had taken place, after the pieces had been picked up and put back together, a strange thing happened.

Harry Potter was forgotten. Or at least pushed to the side, and he resented it. After all he had done, he was cast aside like a cask of stale butterbeer. It proved that the world was a "what have you done for me lately" kind of place, and he resented it.

Oh he still had friends, or at least he did at the time. Hurt by his treatment and plagued by inner demons that were starting to emerge, Harry had locked himself in the dark foulness that was 12 Grimauld Place and cut off contact with almost everyone he knew. The only ones that he allowed any kind of contact were Kingsley and his other supervisors at the ministry, and on occasion, Hermione, but that was it. He even pushed the Weasleys to the side. He quite simply wanted to be alone and try and deal with his problems on his own.

So, as a result, his life was a miserable one. He worked long hours, and when he was home, he barely ate, more often than not, drinking his meals from a firewhiskey bottle. He was reclusive, sullen and bitter.

Now he hardly cared that he was no longer seen as a hero by most. He never did like being in the spotlight, but what hurt him the most was that when after all was said and done, when the world was safe again, and he needed help, no one seemed to be available. He had risked his life for them, and when he needed them, he was practically invisible. That fact more than anything encouraged his bitterness and caused him to pull away from everything and everyone.

Now he knew, deep in the back of his mind, that the Weasleys would be there to help, but in his current state, he really did not care. He felt as if he was so far gone that no one, not even his surrogate family could help him. And, Harry being Harry, did not want to put them through the hell that they were sure to go through if they were to make the attempt to help him. No, it was better this way. It was better to be miserable and on his own than to drag other people into this mess and risk hurting them as well.

These thoughts and many others were on his mind as he emptied yet another bottle and slouched sullenly in a chair before a roaring fire. He tossed the bottle behind him, not caring if it broke and made a mess. Kreacher would take care of it in any case. He fought sleep even though he was exhausted. Over the years he had trained his body to function on as little sleep as possible. He would never admit it, but with sleep came the nightmares, and to admit that he was scared of those would admit weakness, and he would never do that. They had not been so bad at first, only coming once, maybe twice a week, but it had not been long before they had started to get worse, and more frequent.

When they had started to get to be about three times a week, he had sought help. He had first asked around the ministry if there was anything or anyone that could perhaps get him through this, but he was met with mostly indifference and ignorance. People actually started to treat him as if there was something wrong with him. As if the war had damaged his mind beyond repair. Which, Harry had to admit to himself, was probably true.

Once his friends found out what was going on with him, they had started to find more and more reasons to not be around him, as if they were scared that whatever he had was contagious. Ron had tried to help, but Ron being Ron was totally clueless on what to do and ended up doing more harm than good. Harry still respected his best mate for trying, but again, he did not want to drag anyone he loved into this mess, so he had slowly started to distance himself from Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. They had, of course, tried to contact him many times, but he never responded, hoping that they would get the hint and leave him alone.

Eventually the owls and floo calls tapered off and then ended, and Harry was left with the peace that he so desired. However, for whatever reason, he still corresponded with Hermione. He had tried to ignore her at first as well, but she would not back down and Harry had finally started talking to her mainly to get her to quit nagging him. Which did not work of course, she still nagged him on a daily basis…pushing him to do things that he really did not want to do, like talk to Ron and the Weasleys, or at least Ron. She and Ron were currently engaged and living together…much to the disapproval of Mrs. Weasley he was sure….so Harry knew that Ron knew exactly what was going on in his life, as he got reports from Hermione. He also knew that Ron really wanted him to be his best man, but Harry could not pull himself together long enough to do it. He pleaded with Hermione to get Ron to ask someone like Neville to do the task and just leave him the hell alone, and currently, as far as he knew, that was the end of the matter.

Pulling himself together, he finally stood up and took a few drunken, unsteady steps to a nearby mirror hanging in the drawing room. For what seemed like an eternity, he did not even look up, instead staring at the filthy floor. Kreacher had begged his master time and time again to let him clean, but Harry wanted his surroundings to be as dirty as he felt his soul was. He had finally relented a little though and allowed his house elf to clean everywhere in the house save the drawing room and the hall outside of it. It was easier than hearing him whine daily about being a bad elf. Harry had even threatened to give him clothes if he did not shut up, but even Kreacher knew that he wouldn't do it and the elf actually called his bluff, which ended in the compromise.

So now, looking down as his feet, Harry slowly brought up his left arm so that it was right in front of his face. As he did so, his robe sleeve fell away and exposed his wrist, along with the jagged scar that was on it. The scar was old, but there were others on his bodies that were newer. He simply needed to have physical pain to go with his emotional pain. It was the only way that he knew how to deal.

The thing was though, after he had hurt himself, he felt ashamed by the act and that shame translated into more guilt and pain, which in turn, turned into more physical pain. It was a vicious cycle, and Harry felt powerless to stop it.

Finally looking into the mirror, Harry almost gasped at what he saw. What he saw in the mirror was a forty year old nineteen year old. His lack of sleep showed in the lines on his face and his eyes lacked any kind of life. They were dark and lifeless showing not the slightest trace of joy of any kind. He had let his hair grow long, so long that he was sure that if Molly Weasley saw it, she would be sitting him down for a forced haircut. It fell to about the middle of his neck and it hung there limp and dull.

_All those years I made fun of Snape for his greasy hair. What a hypocrite you are now Potter._

Once that thought entered his head, others soon followed. Each one worse than the one before it.

_Worthless_

_Forgotten hero_

_Unloved_

One right after the other, assaulting his brain almost as bad as Voldemort had done. It was not long before it simply had become too much for him to handle. The pain had to go, he had to feel something. Almost without thinking, he raised his right hand, and punched himself in the face as hard as he could. He did this three more times before collapsing on the floor in front of the mirror in a fetal position, blood coming from his broken nose and sobbing uncontrollably.

Thirty minutes later, against his will, he fell into a restless sleep. He was found a hour later by Kreacher who, used to seeing his master like this, simply placed a blanket over him and a pillow under his head, shaking his head sadly. Kreacher wanted to help, but did not know how. Until he could figure it out, he would take care of Master Potter the best way he knew how.

* * *

Molly Weasley was troubled. Oh she had a lot to be thankful for, and was happy for the most part, but there was something that was keeping her up at the midnight hour, bundled in an old quilt and sipping tea in her quite for once kitchen.

Bill and Fleur had just made her a grandmother for the first time. Something that thrilled her to no end. Percy and Ronald had just announced their engagements, and if there was one thing that she loved ALMOST as much as a grandchild, it was planning a wedding. Fred and George were very successful in their business and were both dating seriously. Charlie was happy, though still single and Ginny was recently graduated from Hogwarts and had spent the past year traveling the world. She was due back soon to start healer training and Molly was planning one hell of a welcome home party for her. Then, there was her seventh son. Not blood, but her son just the same. Harry had withdrawn from them, asking her family to leave him alone. She had resisted at first, but on Arthur's advice had finally relented, though she did not like it at all. Every motherly instinct told her that Harry needed her and she needed to help him…but her husband had counseled her that this was for the best, and Harry would come back to them when he chose, if ever. And if he didn't, she would just have to accept it. She was not so sure about that last part.

She knew she was right to worry, she knew that he surrogate son needed her help, and that feeling was backed up by the hand on the clock she was staring at…the same clock that had a hand with Harry's name on it, and was currently pointing to _danger_. Molly had had Bill add the new category during the last war. She felt that _mortal danger_ and _danger_ where two different things, and wanted more specificity.

So here she was, staring at this clock the same way she had been every night for the past few months, fighting every urge in her body to jump up and take care of the boy that she loved as a son.

**A/N: So this is chapter one, and I hope you liked it. This chapter is simply setting the table for the rest of the story, so don't worry, there is more to come! While this story will be a bit dark, this first chapter is perhaps the darkest, so things will get better. Also, I know there are a lot of these kinds of Harry Potter stories out there, but I have always wanted to do one, and put my own twist to it. So I hope you enjoy my version. Please review!-J**


	2. Homecoming and Kittens

**Disclaimer**: I am a college student, so that means I am poor, which means that I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with him…unfortunately.

**Timeline**: The story starts around the year 2000. Two years after the final battle.

**Summary:** Harry has saved the wizarding world, but after all of the celebrations were over, everyone moved on and seemingly forgot all about the boy that saved them. Left to his own devices, can be overcome the pain that comes with witnessing so much pain and death? Help may be on the way in the form of red hair. Slightly AU mainly because I cannot write in a world where Fred Weasley is dead.

**A/N:** As a military vet myself, this day holds a special meaning for me, so today I pause to remember those who have paid the ultimate price in the defense of our country, as well as those who are still serving. I salute you all.

I hope that you all enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter Two: Homecoming and Kittens**

_Home_

The realization hit her in a soft, pleasant way and spread over her body in a warm, comforting way. A smile forming on her face, she allowed the familiarity that was the Burrow overwhelm her like one of her mum's handmade quilts.

There was the shed where her father spent untold hours tinkering with muggle objects against her mother's (sometimes) silent protests. There was the small pond where she had spent many summers swimming with her brothers and, in later years, Hermione and Harry. There was the sorry looking homemade quiddich pitch where she had practiced on her own in secret for years. Even the chickens were there, contributing to her sense of home.

_That muggle from Kansas had it right, there IS no place like home._

Ginny had enjoyed her time away, traveling the world. After the events of the past few years, she had felt that not only would the time away be good for her, but the experience itself would go a long way towards helping her in life as well…two points that she used to convince her mother to accept her doing this in the first place.

She would have gone anyway, she was of age after all, but there was still a part of her, the little girl deep inside, that still wanted the approval of her parents. In the end, it was her father and, surprisingly, her brother Ron who had convinced her mother that her trip would be good for her. Her father's support did not surprise her; he had always stuck up for his little girl. But Ron, Ron had always been a stubborn, pigheaded prat, never wanting to let his sister do anything remotely dangerous.

_Perhaps Hermione has had some positive influence on him after all_

Still smiling, Ginny picked up her trunk and headed into the Burrow, and to the inevitable welcome home party that she was certain was awaiting her, hoping, almost without even thinking about it, that a certain messy haired boy would be among the ones welcoming her home.

* * *

Ginny had not been disappointed. When she had entered the back door of the Burrow, she was immediately been accosted by what seemed like every single member of her family.

_Perhaps sending that owl letting them know when I would exactly be home was not the brightest of ideas._

Still, even though she may complain about it sometimes, Ginny really did love her family, and was immensely happy about being home again.

Sitting at the huge family table, finishing off another one of her mother's feasts, she sat back and took a moment to look at each member of her family, looking for any changes, both good and bad, that may have occurred while she was gone.

Starting with Bill, she smiled for what seemed like the millionth time that day. She had known that Fleur was pregnant when she left, but she had not had the chance to meet her new niece as of yet. Happily, that oversight was corrected minutes after her arrival when weeks old Victoire was placed in her arms. Ginny, of course, immediately fell in love with the blond haired child and vowed to spoil her as much as she could.

Charlie was there as well, which kind of surprised her as she thought that he was still in Romania doing his thing with the dragons. Well, he still was, but took the occasion of her homecoming as an excuse to have a visit home. And more to the point, he had brought along his new girlfriend, fellow dragon handler Chelsea Douglas. They both danced around the questions regarding the seriousness of their relationship, but Ginny was betting that her second oldest brother had finally met his match. She liked Chelsea, and fervently hoped that she would be an official part of the family before too much longer.

Percy was there with his new Fiancée Audrey. Ginny did not feel as close to Percy as she did to her other brothers, but she was one of the first to forgive him after he had realized what an ass he was being and decided to return to the family. He may be stiff and more formal than anyone she knew, but he was still family, and she did love him. She did not know Audrey well, but from what little she knew, she liked her well enough. She mentally started to prepare herself for being a bridesmaid in her wedding.

Then there were the twins. Fred and George were doing their best to draw attention to themselves, and doing a grand job of it. Their store had become hugely successful after the war had ended, and as a result, they had just put the finishing touches on their second store, which was ready to open in Hogsmead anytime now. George was still single, but Fred had recently started to date Angelina Johnson. Ginny smiled to herself again, for even when she was at her worse, those two never failed to make her forget what was wrong and just smile. She loved them both dearly.

Finally, there was Ron with one arm firmly around Hermione and the other….to no one's surprise was shoveling winterberry pie in at an alarming rate.

_Good to know that some things will never change._

Ginny had been delighted to hear of Ron and Hermione's engagement, even though she had a feeling that it would happen forever. She loved Ron very much, but he had always had that…roughness about him that made it hard to be around him sometimes. Knowing Hermione though, she would start to polish those rough edges and make him a better man than he already was…if she had not started to do so already.

Feeling stuffed and satisfied, Ginny leaned back in her chair and let her contentment spread over her. Yes, it was good to be home. Training and work could wait for now, right now she just wanted to bask in the glow of a warm, loving family.

* * *

Darkness

Well, that was because he had his eyes closed of course.

Groaning, Harry slowly opened his eyes, kind of surprised to see everything in focus. Maybe fore once his glasses did not fall off when he had passed out.

Grateful for this small favor, he slowly stood up from the pavement that he had been lying on. That in itself was no shock to him. He had very often passed out on the street in front of his home, in an ally in Diagon Alley, outside of muggle pubs, it really did not matter, he was used to it.

So he finally stood up, brushed some dirt off of his already hopelessly stained robes, and took a few unsteady steps. So intent was he on steadying himself, he did not fully take in his surroundings. He had assumed that he was in a back alley somewhere near his home, but for some reason, that house in front of him did not look all that familiar to him.

Hold on, on second glance, it looked a little too familiar.

What the hell was he doing at 4 Privet drive? Had he apparated here on accident? Was someone playing a very cruel joke on him?

Whatever the case, Harry intended on getting the hell out of here as soon as he could. This place had been hell for him growing up and he had not one fond memory of the place.

He started to apparate, but try as he might, he could not. No matter how hard he tried, he could not complete the process. This immediately put him into a defensive mode, his auror instincts kicking in. If anti apparition wards were in place, whoever put him here meant him harm.

His wand out in front of him, he started to make his way down Privet, alert for anything that may happen…his only goal to find out just what the heck was going on and to just get the hell out of here.

After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes, he spotted what looked to be a group of people headed his way. He almost welcomed this since it was the first sign of life that he had seen since his "arrival" in this strange place. Oh it looked familiar enough, but there was just something in the back of his head that nagged him that something was not quite right here.

As this group got closer, he could make out the features of the person in the lead, and when he did, his stomach dropped and his wand raised higher.

_It kind of figures that if I am on Privet, that Dudley would make an appearance._

Sure enough, it was his cousin in the lead of a group that looked to be about half a dozen. When they got closer, it took every bit of control that Harry had to not run away screaming. Not only was Dudley looking like he had not aged since he was about fourteen, but the others in his little gang looked nothing like the gang that he had been with when he had terrorized Harry and the rest of the neighborhood when they were both teenagers. No, Dudders had a new gang now.

Cedric Diggory was there, and looking almost exactly like he had when Harry had last seen him. Though now his skin was pale and waxy, and his eyes were unfocused and unseeing. He looked every bit like the zombies that Harry had seen on television on those rare occasions when he had sneaked a look when the Dursley's had been away.

Remus and Tonks were there as well and looking just as dead, but there were looks on both of their faces that Harry had never seen before…was that hate? The expression looked almost foreign on the heart shaped face of Tonks and he had never thought he would see it in his former teacher's expression.

_This is so not good. _

As if those four were not enough, the other two rounding out the group were another two of his former professors, or at least one that had been impersonated and one that he had hated with a passion for most of his life. Mad Eye Moody had looked ghastly in real life and death had not done him any favors. The pale skin did nothing to compliment him and while his leg was whole again, he still walked with an unsteady gate….the walk of death to be sure. And of course, Severus Snape had to be here. After all, what would a nightmare (which he was now certain this was) be without him? The sneer that Harry had come to know all too well looked like it was permanently etched on his face now and the pale death skin did little to offset his still greasy looking black hair.

Harry, with his wand still upraised, tried to back away, to find some way out of this nightmare, only to see this group of six advance on him just as fast as he could attempt his escape, and then they spoke.

"What's the matter loser? Scared of a little beating?" Dudley stated, clearly taking up after his fourteen year old self.

"No, I don't think he is scared", said Cedric, "maybe acting like a little coward, but not scared".

"Typical Potter behavior of course", Snape said in an almost bored tone, "always willing to fight against what he thinks is evil, but too cowardly to face the consequences of his actions".

"We are all dead because of you!" shouted Mad Eye. "YOU got us into this fight and WE died, but you still live! And now you have to live with that! So face us you coward"!

Harry dropped his wand and fell to his knees on the hard pavement, burying his face into his hands and rocking back and forth.

"No. It's not my fault! I tried! I really did try to save you! Please leave me alone"!

Remus scoffed at this. "Tried? Stop with the excuses Potter. Your father would not have just tried", he said this past word in a whinny voice that was meant to mock Harry. "He would have succeeded or died in the attempt! But you did not even have the decency to die in the defense of your friends. You sicken me".

"You are no hero"! Spat Tonks. "It's because of you that our little boy has to grow up without his parents! Wanted him to be just like you didn't you? The fact that we made you his godfather makes me want to vomit".

Harry fell to the cold, hard pavement and started to shake and sob.

"No! Stop please! I tried, I really did! It's not my fault! Leave me alone!"

He braced himself, ready for the pain and perhaps the release of the death that he was sure was awaiting him as the group of six advanced on him. Even though there was a small part of him that knew that this was still a nightmare, he almost hoped that it wasn't so he could end this once and for all.

* * *

But, instead of the pain, he felt something warm, wet, and….rough? on his cheek. What the hell was that? Scared to do so, but feeling that he had to if only to find out what the hell was on his face, he chanced to open his eyes.

He would have laughed if he wasn't still so scared. There was a kitten licking his tear stained face. Apparently he was where he thought he was in the first place, in an alley outside of the Three Broomsticks. Harry pulled himself up slowly, partially to steady himself and partially to not scare the kitten. When he had done so, he got a good look at the cat. It looked to be about a few months old, no older. It was black all over, save for completely white feet and a white streak on its chest going all the way up to the front part of its face.

It also looked as though it was near starved to death. Apparently it was a stray and was licking his tears as a desperate way to get some kind of moisture. Taking a chance, Harry gently reached for it and picked it up, cuddling it to his chest and tried to relax. The kitten did not object, and in fact was soon purring itself to sleep against his chest.

Harry had not had a pet since Hedwig had died, so what the hell, having this cat may be good for him. He needed some kind of companionship and it (giving a quick look and disturbing its nap briefly, Harry determined that it was a she) obviously needed help too. They could help each other.

He got to his feet and started to walk home, not wanting to chance apparating with his new friend. Still shaken from his nightmare, Harry still could not help feeling at least a little wanted, even if it was from a small cat.

_Now if only a few certain humans wanted me the same way._

**And chapter two is now complete. This was another "gateway" chapter introducing Ginny and getting you caught up with the Weasleys. I also wanted to give you a small glimpse of one of Harry's nightmares so you could see pretty much exactly what he has to deal with. Don't worry though, this is the last intro chapter and the next one (which should be out in a day or two) will really start to get into the meat of the story. Also, they will not all be as dark as these first two chapters, and while there will still be some more unhappiness, things WILL get better I promise. PLEASE review, I really love seeing those in my inbox and seeing how you guys like the story.**


	3. In the Meadow

**Disclaimer**: I am a college student, so that means I am poor, which means that I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with him…unfortunately.

**Timeline**: The story starts around the year 2000. Two years after the final battle.

**Summary:** Harry has saved the wizarding world, but after all of the celebrations were over, everyone moved on and seemingly forgot all about the boy that saved them. Left to his own devices, can be overcome the pain that comes with witnessing so much pain and death? Help may be on the way in the form of red hair. Slightly AU mainly because I cannot write in a world where Fred Weasley is dead.

**Chapter Three: In the Meadow**

The air was pleasant and warm, and she was grateful for it. It was times like this that she treasured. Stretched out here in the meadow, with nothing on her mind and nothing but time, it was easy to forget…before. The memories from that earlier time faded more and more as time passed, but she still held onto some of them, almost stubbornly. But she knew that even those would fade in time, no matter how hard she tried to hang onto them.

Still, she figured that it was a small price to pay for the kind of life that she led now. She was happy, content, and she was never alone. She would give quite a bit to be able to stay this way for eternity.

Sadly, she knew that that would not be the case. Even though she had been here for a fair amount of years, she knew that her time to leave would be soon. Her best friend had already left not long before, and she figured that it was only a matter of time before she was called to leave as well.

She knew that it was her purpose, her destiny to return. Almost everyone did of course, and she knew that when she did go back, it would be for some higher purpose, but that did not mean that she had to like it. It was fun here! There was none of the stress or pain that went with living on the other world. Here, she could, and often did, forget all of that. She could forget that she had once been mortal, and as such, could forget all of the mess that went with being mortal.

Well, if she could forget her past memories, then she could forget that she had to return soon. It was easier to push those thoughts to the side, at least for the moment while she enjoyed her current environment for just a bit longer.

Picking up a nearby lily, she held the flower to her nose and inhaled deeply, smiling as she did so. She knew there were flowers "down there", but she was also willing to bet that none looked or smelled as good as these.

Laying back down on the soft ground, the girl who was once known as Gabrielle Gryffindor and would soon be known by another name, sighed contently. The future could wait, here in this moment, time did not exist.

* * *

Harry glanced up from the newspaper that he was perusing over a light breakfast. The kitten that he had found the week before had wasted no time in making herself right at home. The feline was currently fast asleep on top of his sofa right in the middle of a patch of sun that was streaming through the window.

_That bloody cat spends more time sleeping than any animal I have ever seen. _

There was no trace of annoyance in his musings. In truth, Socks, as he had decided to call her due to her markings, had become a small blessing to Harry. She seemed to have a sense of his emotional state and almost went out of her way to make sure that he was doing alright. If he did not know any better, he would have sworn that the cat was doing it on purpose, like she knew what she was doing and wanted to take care of him.

It was silly of course. Cats, while one of the smarter animals around, were still animals and therefore were not capable of thinking as humans do. What did she know about feelings or emotions? Still, it was a welcome distraction and Harry did appreciate the small amount of comfort that came with having her furry body pressed up against his; or to hear her purr softly on his chest as he fell asleep.

Kreacher had not known what to make of his new addition at first. He had started out a bit jealous as he viewed it as his job to take care of his master, and this new being in his house was usurping some of his power. After a couple of days however, he realized that there were some things that he could not do for Harry, and conceded that he could team up with the cat to make his master happy. Once this was accomplished, the cat and the house elf fell into a guarded, though friendly alliance, both having the same common goal.

He was about to go back to his paper, when he noticed Socks staring at him. While that in itself was not all that unusual, this was…different than her usual smug 'I'm a cat therefore I am superior to you" stare; the stare that Harry privately called the Draco Malfoy look. No, this was different, and once again he got the feeling that this cat knew more about him than he cared to know. Living in a world full of magic, this should have come as no surprise, but he was not at all sure how comfortable he was having a pet that stared at him like this. Was he dealing with an animagus sent to spy on him?

Paranoid now, Harry sat up and walked over to the cat, pulling his wand out as he did so. He pointed it at Socks and with a quick flick of his hand, performed the homorphus charm, the same one that was used back in his third year to reveal the treacherous rat Pettigrew. The soft blue light enveloped the cat and….nothing. Save a mild look of annoyance for being disturbed, Socks remained as she had been…a simple black and white cat.

Chastising himself for being so paranoid, Harry turned and went back to the table and to his paper, intent on finishing an article before he had to go and get ready for work. Life may be slightly better for him now, but it was not perfect, and there was still the fact that the world still needed his protection, even if he didn't think that they deserved it.

* * *

Well, that had been slightly annoying. Socks had simply been taking a well-deserved rest when Harry had to come over and disturb her with that sill blue light. Okay, she had slipped up a little bit by staring at him.

She knew him, and knew that he was paranoid almost to the point of hysteria. She had been told that and living with him for the past week or so had only confirmed it. So she should have known that any action outside of the ordinary would set him off. She would have to be more careful in the future.

Harry thought that their meeting was pure chance, but Socks knew otherwise. She had been sent her to provide what comfort she could to the troubled man, and so far, she seemed to be doing a good job, but she was only one per…er cat, and there was only so much she could do.

When he had gone for the day, she stood up, stretched, and gave a huge yawn before she settled down again and started to wash a paw. She had never been a cat before, having previously been human, but the powers that be had decided that a cat was what Harry needed most right now, and who was she…he to argue? Yes, while he could not, and would not argue with those in power, he was more than a little annoyed over their choice of putting him in a female cat's body. When he was human, he had been male, and getting used to the opposite gender, even in a cat's body, was proving to be challenging. He had to start thinking in the perspective of a female.

Still washing and getting to work on a particular tough spot on her back, she reflected a bit. She had agreed to this assignment because Harry Potter held a special place in her heart. She had seen what he had done two years ago and his steady decline since then. So when she was asked to lend her aid, she had jumped at the chance.

Progress was being made, but there was still a long way to go. She would do her best, but she hoped and prayed that the promised reinforcements would arrive soon. Right now, she could use the help. Being in a cat's body did have its limitations.

Giving another huge yawn, the cat who wasn't a cat settled down for yet another nap. She did need her strength.

* * *

To say that she was tired would be to tell a lie through gross understatement. Never in her life had Ginny Weasley been this exhausted. She had just arrived home after her first day of healer training and she felt as though she had been run through the ringer. She had expected that they would just ease her in the first day, not give her anything too strenuous, maybe have her spend a few days in classrooms learning techniques.

She had been wrong. Very, very wrong.

After a short one hour orientation to the training facility at St. Mungos, she and the rest of the small group of trainees had immediately been thrown into a shift at the trauma ward; supervised very, very closely by apprentice healers of course.

They were not allowed to dispense potions or other medications, nor were they allowed to any complex healing or diagnosis, but they were constantly asked what they would do in a situation and if correct, would be shown the procedure by their supervisor, and if wrong, would earn a scornful look and then be shown the correct way.

_Only two more years of this, _Ginny thought to herself as she kicked off her shoes and plopped wearily into the overstuffed chair she had just purchased for her new home a few days ago.

Her mother, of course, had wanted her to stay at the burrow while she completed her training. Molly had insisted that it was because she thought it would be easier for Ginny to be around family and support as she made her way through, but privately, Ginny knew it was because she was simply not ready to let her little girl go so soon.

In the end, with the support of her father, Ginny had convinced her mother that not only was she ready to move out on her own, but insisted that it would be better for her in the long run. Hermione had helped her find a tiny, yet comfortable and affordable flat near the family home, and Molly helped her decorate, something that helped ease the pain of her leaving.

Still, she never questioned her decision to become a healer. Except for perhaps playing professional quiddich, it was the only thing she had wanted to do for as long as she could remember. She was thrilled at the idea of actually being entrusted with the care of another human, and doing whatever it took to make them healthy and whole again. It was sort of an adrenaline rush.

Lazing in the chair, she let her mind and her gaze wander. Before too long, her eyes fell on a picture on her mantle…obviously placed there by her mum along with the other dozen or so assorted pictures of her family. The picture that caught her gaze though, was one of Ron and Harry. Both looked to be about fourteen years old and from their sweaty faces and the brooms at their side, they had just finished playing quiddich. Ron had his arm around Harry and they were both smiling in that easy way that comes with being best friends.

Not for the first time since she had come back, Ginny's thoughts wandered to Harry. She had not seen or even heard from him in more than a few years. After the war ended she saw him for a few moments here and there, but they were never alone, always surrounded by family or friends. They never had a chance to….reconnect. She had thought for certain that he would seek her out when the war was over, to try and rekindle what they had had in her fifth year, she had even had a plan to make his grovel a bit. But, it had never happened.

She thought about seeking him out herself, but her stupid pride got in the way of that happening. And before long, he completely cut off contact and that was that. Of course she still heard how he was doing through Hermione via Ron, who Harry still talked to from time to time, but that closeness that she once had with him that, if she was honest with herself, still craved, was gone and she prayed that it was not gone forever.

Maybe now that she was back, things could be different. Maybe she would put her pride to the side for a little bit and actually go to him, to talk to him. She would confront him, forcibly if needed. Even if he wanted nothing to do with her, and her heart would break if that were the case, she still needed some kind of closure.

Because you see, while Ginny still cared for him, perhaps loved him, there was no doubt in this world that her family, especially his mother loved Harry unconditionally, and by him pulling away from them was hurting them tremendously, and it torn her apart to see it; yet another reason to confront him. She loved her family dearly and hated to see them in so much pain.

Resolving to make plans to find him and have a little chat with the boy who lived, Ginny reluctantly pulled herself out of her chair and shuffled to the loo. It was still early in the evening, but she had a very early morning and she had best get some rest and prepare for it now.

* * *

_The Next day:_

Having gone through the usual security check in procedure, Harry shuffled his way to the auror department; being careful to avoid eye contact with anyone. Even after all these years, he still imagined that there were those who stared, who pointed at him and whispered comments behind their hands about him. Once, he had even caught a few of those comments.

_Is that Harry bloody Potter? Merlin, he is looking rough!_

_I can't believe they let that nutter be an auror_

_It's amazing he hasn't offed himself yet._

Real or imagined, Harry still heard them, and he was in not in the right state of mind to deal with it. And he was not sure there was a right state of mind to deal with this kind of thing. No one ever cared enough to tell him.

So intent was he on getting to his office so he could shut a door behind him, he did not see the person that he collided with until it was too late.

"Oi! Watch where you're going you….oh, hey Harry, all right mate?"

Luckily, the person that Harry had chosen to literally run into was Ron Weasley. Ron may still be his best mate, but he still had trouble talking to even him. He managed what he hoped was a passible smile and helped Ron off the floor where he had fallen on his bum.

"Sorry Ron. Yeah, I'm fine. Just wasn't paying attention is all." Hoping that was enough, he turned to resume his journey to his sanctuary. But Ron was not done.

"Harry, mate. Hermione and I…."

Damn. He was not going to get off easy after all. Taking a deep breath, he turned again to face his best mate.

"Look Ron, I know what you are going to say. 'Hermione and I are worried about you. Would you like to come over for dinner and have a little chat?' Am I close"?

Ron's face started to turn red in embarrassment and Harry knew that he had hit the mark.

"We are just…."

Harry held up his hand to stop him. "Worried about me, I know, and I appreciate it, I really do, but you and Hermione both have to know that what I am dealing with, what I am going through, you can't help me with, as much as you want to. I love you both and appreciate your support, and IF I am ever ready to talk, I will come to you, I promise. Now if you will excuse me, I have to get to work."

With that, Harry left an open mouthed Ron still staring at his retreating back as he made his way to his office.

* * *

This was bad, this was very bad. Not more than fifteen minutes after Harry had arrived at auror headquarters; there had been an emergency call. A former death eater, one who had been laying low for years now and who they had been tracking for just as long had been caught in a wizarding neighborhood and had holed himself up in a house that contained a family of six…mother, father, three kids, and a grandmother. The suspect was holding all six hostage and the house was surrounded by both aurors and hit wizards.

Harry paced outside of the house. He was in charge of this unit and everyone was waiting on him to make a decision. He carefully weighed the options in his head. This guy was deranged, there was no doubt about that and he had to be treated very carefully. He knew that they were out there, and one wrong move and innocent people would die.

If they waited too long, he may get impatient and do something rash, like killing the hostages. If they charged in, he would get spooked and start killing.

After a bit more thought, he made his decision. He motioned for his assistant, a man named Lawrence to approach, when he did so, Harry outlined the plan.

"Nick, if a bunch of us all go in there at once, bad things are going to happen. So you and I are going to sneak in the back way. With any luck, we can sneak up behind him, disarm him, and at the same time shield the hostages against anything else he may have. Any objections"?

Nick Lawrence didn't. He had worked with Harry for two years now and had seen the man work wonders in situations like this. If Harry thought that this plan would work, then it most likely would. He nodded his assent and the two men started to approach the house as one.

Silently, they made their way through the back entrance to the house and crept as silently through the house as they could. It was not a large house, so it did not take long for them to find their target.

The death eater was standing with his back to them, his wand pointed to what appeared to be the father. And….

At his feet appeared to be a bundle of clothing, but looking closer, Harry could tell that it was not. His heart jumped into his throat when he realized that they were already too late; at the killer's feet was the grandmother. He could not be certain that she was dead, but his heart told him that she was.

Rage overcame him and without thinking, he took action. He rushed into the room, intent on pounding the murderer to the ground. However, the criminal must have sensed his approach or saw him out of the corner of his eye because he whipped around in reaction. And upon seeing who was coming, gave an evil smile before quickly killing the man he held before whipping his wand around in one fluid motion to point straight at Harry.

* * *

At the same time, approximately twenty miles away, a dish crashed to the floor of the Burrow as Molly Weasley stared in horror at her family clock. Harry's hand was now pointed at _MORTAL PERIL._

**A/N: Evil I know, but what is a fan fiction without a cliffhanger? I promise that I will not keep you all waiting for an update though. No more than a week, but most likely less. Several of you have told me that this is a more realistic portrayal of Harry after the war. Thank you, that is what I am trying to get across. As always, please review!**


End file.
